


Seven Night Rule

by jinxitor



Category: Gregory Horror Show
Genre: Gen, Gijinka, Humanized, M/M, Tags May Change, actually almost everyone is a trashboat, i cant write about a literal set of scales ok i have limits, judgment boy is a trashboat, mlm author, sfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxitor/pseuds/jinxitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judgment Boy's personal rule is that he will not talk to any guest until they've proved they can survive in this hell hole for at least seven nights.  He gets too invested in them too quickly.  Of course, any time period after those seven nights is fair game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nailed It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the middle of revising and adding a lot of content to this fic, so please forgive me if there are some inconsistencies between chapters as I go through them in chronological order. Thank you for your understanding!

 

The first night was always hard. The moment he heard someone whisper the words 'new guest' Judgment Boy felt the need to jump straight down to the hotel lobby and see them for himself. Knowing himself, that was a bad idea. Despite his actual role as a neutral progress meter, Judgment Boy often found himself heavily biased towards helping the guest. As a matter of fact, he was almost always heavily biased towards helping the guest.

People who have just come from reality tend to be a trillion times more pleasant to talk to than any permanent resident could ever be, and Judgment Boy decided he liked someone within five minutes of meeting them regardless of whether or not they were actually that great of a person and would immediately become heavily invested in making sure nothing bad happened to them.

Unfortunately, that's kind of impossible. So he decided to start waiting. Going against every single desire he had to meet them, he would stay as far away from them as possible. Seven nights, he decided. That's plenty of time to give everyone else a chance to murder whoever the poor thing who wandered in here this time was. If they could last seven nights on their own, they had potential, and Judgment Boy could afford to care about them.

He'd have to lock himself up in his room the first night before the guest learned wandering wasn't safe and started being a little more predictable.  
He was never quite able to keep from listening to gossip. That was something he needed to work on, because hearing people exchange stories about their experiences with the new guy just made him more curious. He'd get there eventually, probably. Hopefully.

"Oh, he's awfully cute, I'd love to have a taste of his blood..."

"I think he might actually have a chance, you know.."

"Ooh, is that so? We'll see!"

Judgment Boy had to suffer through six days of staring at the ceiling, then at his New Kitten Every Day wall calendar, then at the dozens of rounds of tic-tac-toe he played against himself, realizing it was midnight and he could turn the page on his calendar, thinking about how he should probably have more friends, and daring to step out of his room only when he could affirm the guest was absolutely nowhere nearby.

The very hardest night, however was always the last one.

 "Soooon, what time is it?" Judgment Boy asked for the umpteenth time.

"It's 11:44. Not much later than it was 15 seconds ago," My Son replied.  "Also, I'm sorry, but can you please be quiet?  I'm a little busy trying to fix this."  My Son gestured to the busted clock in front of him, with little bits of its disemboweled mechanical parts littering the ground nearby.

Judgment Boy groaned exaggeratedly and flopped backwards to the lobby couch with a POMF.

"You know, no one enforces your rule thingy except you. No one is stopping you from going up there."

"But I like to make sure every single other person has had an opportunity to murder the guest before I talk to them-"

"-So you don't get invested. You've mentioned. Do you really think something is going to happen in the next fifteen minutes?"

"I've clocked him; Hell's Chef can get to Room 205 from the kitchen in 15 seconds," Judgment Boy stated matter-of-factly, "And did, in fact, kill a guest 3 1/2 minutes before the start of the eighth day back in 1957. So THERE."

"You can remember all those numbers? I thought that was my job."

"No, of course I can't. I have them written on my arm in case smart-alecky clock twerps ask me dumb questions." He kicked his feet impatiently. "What time is it?"

"11:47." My Son rolled his eyes. "You know, not to be rude, but for someone who gives me grief over being a kid, you act more like one than I do. Also, you're only TECHNICALLY older than me. We exist perpetually in a thoughtspace rift unaffected by space-time."

"Nyah, nyah, nyah, I'm My Son and I'm a 'precocious young lad' already 'well-versed in the mechanics of our world,' and I'm going to chastise Judgment Boy for only existing as 'a literal manifestation of a moral compass' and refuse to speed up time for him for reasons that basically don't make any sense."

"Okay, I can't deal with this right now, I'm sorry, I'm going to bed." My Son stood up.

"Wait no come back," Judgment Boy said quickly. "I...appreciate your company," he admitted as if it pained him to say.

My Son sat back down impassively.

"Why don't you tell me about the guest?" Judgment Boy suggested, sitting upright and hugging his knees.

"Can't me telling you about him also get you 'invested' in him?" My Son asked, furrowing his brow.

"Shhhhhhhh. Shh. So, guest is a guy, cool."

"O....kay then," My Son continued. "Uh, he's managed to go without making anyone too angry, at least. Actually, he almost seems like he wants to be here."

"Okay, but is he cute?"

My Son shook his head. "....you know, I would say I'm disappointed in your priorities, but at this point I'm not even surprised. Anyway, I can't answer that question, because I don't know what you like."

"Weeeell, I like a-"

"-oh, look, it's 12 AM! Yeah, too bad, you'll have to tell me that later. Darn.  Besides, don't you already know all this stuff anyway?  I see you looking through keyholes eavesdropping on people's conversations."

"It's not gay if I'm a demon!" Judgment Boy called as he sprang off the couch and skipped upstairs. About halfway up the steps, he slowed down, realizing he was totally betraying his cool ambivalent demonic disposition.

Getting to his room, Judgment Boy collected his thoughts. Judgment time. First impressions were everything, and his presentation needed to be exactly the right combination of mysterious, unsettling, and strangely comforting. He hopped onto the weight suspended from the rails on the ceiling and urged it forward in as slow and creaky a fashion as possible. For a perfect judgment performance, everything needed to be just so. In his most haunting voice, he repeated again and again, "Do you know...who I am...? They call me Judgment Boy...."

Guest Boy was staring at the ceiling on his bed. Day 7. So far he'd survived 7 sleepless days of hell. He'd discovered he was just small enough to squeeze through certain holes in the walls, which had greatly aided his ability to hide from deranged sociopaths trying to....he wasn't sure what they were trying to do exactly, actually, but he was absolutely certain it wasn't anything fun for him.

He looked at the hole-shaped scar the size of a pencil eraser head in his left arm. He had never liked needles. Too sharp, he couldn't stand the sight of his own blood, and he could always swear he could feel it getting sucked out of him even when nurses would assure him that he definitely wouldn't be able to feel that and it was only psychosomatic. He was absolutely positive that when that crazy nurse lady stuck him on his second night here, he really could feel himself being sucked dry. He checked "vampire" off his internal list of supernatural creatures he would be willing to date.

He narrowly escaped being decapitated by a meat cleaver thanks to his new best friend, the hole in the wall outside the kitchen, which that towering cook couldn't hope to fit through. Guest Boy had decided to dub his new best friend Phillip, and brought a couple of candles to decorate Phillip's abode with since he could already tell he was going to be spending a lot of time there.

Guest Boy, from his room, heard the distant chanting of a broken record voice slowly grow more and more audible. It was coming here, wasn't it? Guest Boy groaned inwardly - he had been beginning to think he could survive the night without another one of these...whatever it was they were plaguing him. Unfortunately, it seemed he was wrong about that now.

Against his better judgement, he peeked outside of his doorway just in time to see a figure hanging off of a chain fade into view. It was now clear what he was saying.

"They call me- no, I AM, Judgment Boy!" He came to a dead stop and hopped off his rail. He was lanky and dressed in a striped motley of discordant colors. Clasping his hands together, he cried out, "Judgment!" and ripped them back apart to summon a rod into his hands. Looking closer at the chains and cages hanging from each end, Guest Boy saw it was more like a balance.

Guest Boy was speechless, and so Judgment Boy continued with his performance.

"You come into possession of a button. Each time you press it, you receive exactly as much money as you need at that very moment. However, each time you press it, a random person somewhere in the world drops dead where they stand. Will you use it? In what cases?"

Petrified of what could happen if he answered incorrectly, Guest Boy answered, "I...wouldn't use it. I don't think I'd be comfortable with the fact that I'm killing someone, even if it was someone I'd never meet."

Judgment Boy nodded knowingly. "I see. That's what you say, but is that answer reflected in your heart? Let's consult the Balance of Truth, shall we?" He closed his eyes and held the balance steady. "The idea of killing a person may appall you, but under desperate circumstances, and when it is depersonalized so much as becoming the mere press of a button, it's all too easy to do. Are your morals really that strong? Judgment...NOW!" He spun the balance above his head so deftly it became a blur, tossed it into the air, and severed the first chain that came near him. The loose chain fell to the ground, and the rod itself was grabbed by him just before it could make impact.

The crystalline heart attached to the severed chain hit the floor and shattered everywhere.

"...one day, at risk of losing your closest friend to illness, you force yourself to press the button. And each time you press the button in succession, it becomes a little easier. That is, until one day, as you hit it, you see the life leave the eyes of the very same friend you saved, and they drop silently to the ground." Judgment Boy bowed his head and dismissed his balance, leaving only the red shards of the heart behind.

Guest Boy's heart was pounding. The fuck kind of demon was this, that scared you only by reflecting yourself back to you? He stepped back. What was it going to do know, rip out his soul or something?

Judgment Boy turned away and cast a glance over his shoulder. "Your heart broke because of the alluring temptation of security. It was your choice, now you have to live with it. Feel free to pick up the pieces, if you can."

Judgment Boy grasped the chain of his weight wordlessly and clung back onto it. It creaked away slowly, leaving Guest Boy staring flabbergasted at the dark hallway it faded away into.

Judgment Boy flopped triumphantly onto the lobby couch. "Naaaaiiiiled iiiit!"

My Son didn't look up from his book. "Isn't it a little early in your relationship for you to nail him?"

A voice from a room away called, "SON."

"Sorry, Daddy!  Anyway, of course you nailed it, with all the time you spend practicing in your room. Besides, you have the easiest job. Scaring someone with themselves doesn't even require coming up with your own material."

Judgment Boy was horribly offended. "Um, FALSE. It takes a special kind of person to be able to reflect one's own flaws and insecurities back at them so as to sink that innate fear deep into their skin and infect their very being with it. The question of morality is not a blunt object to be swung around, it is a thin rapier only to be pierced through the heart."

My Son had already walked away.


	2. Mitochondria is the Powerhouse of the Cell

No sooner had My Son stepped through the door that he was startled by someone standing right there, juuuust out of view from the adjacent room.

“James?” My Son asked.

“Heh, you flinched,” snickered James.

My Son rolled his eyes.  "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want..." James flicked his eyes back and forth suspiciously.  "...information."

"Cool, I have plenty of that.  Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell."  My Son started to walk away.

"Get your ass back here, I'm not done!”

"Okay, fine, what is it?" asked My Son.

"What can you tell me about Judgment Boy?"

"...you mean that one I was just talking with? Why would you even want to know stuff about him?"

James clasped his hands.  "He's so cool."

"Are...are you sure we're talking about the same person?"  Far be it for James of all people to have respect for anyone, let alone this guy.

"Yeah, I am.  He just does whatever he wants and doesn't listen to anyone.  Like, he'll even mess with Grandpa, who could kick him out if he wanted to, he's fearless.  I want to get on his good side and be around him."

My Son hesitated.  "I think you're a little young for him."

"You know that's not what I mean!  I want to be, like.  What's the word?  His wingman?"

"I really hope you mean right-hand man."

 

By the time Judgment Boy finally noticed the creaking on the staircase, it was too late.  "Hey, you."

Judgment Boy's head snapped up to see that very same guest from earlier standing on the bottom step, looking straight at him, unflinching.  Judgment Boy quickly attempted to cover up his astonishment at seeing a Guest down here, especially when there was obvious activity.  "Whaddaya want?"

"I want you to tell me who you are."

"Did...did you somehow miss the part where I was singing about how I'm Judgment Boy?"

"No, I get that you're Judgment Boy.  I'm VERY clear on that part.  I wanted an explanation of whatever the fuck all that was."

"Weeeell..." Judgment Boy pressed his finger to his cheek in mock thought.  "I GUESS I could tell you some stuff, since you had the initiative to come down here, and all.  I'll need some more specific questions.  I am a purely ambivalent being, by the way, so I can't give you advice."

"Okay, so, first, tell me what this place is."

"I said questions, not commands.  This is a place for people who have lost their way.  You're here because you're one of those people.  Whether you can find your way again or not is all dependent on you.  Maybe while you're looking for it, you'll find out the truth of this place, though."

"Spare me the vague riddles, please.  What was all that earlier?"

"Weeeell, my job is to show you what path you're on.  It's up to you to decide if it's the right path, though."

"Are you a demon or what?

"I'm Judgment Boy."

"Thank you, that really cleared it up for me.  I guess that means you can’t tell me?"

"Well, I don't actually know all the specifics, but I guess you could say I’m a demon.  I might be different from your idea of what a demon is, so be careful with assumptions."

Guest Boy, feeling awkward still standing, sat down on the couch next to Judgment Boy, facing him. Judgment Boy wanted to scoot away - it had been a long time since he'd been in such close proximity to a human and he wasn’t exactly keen on breaking the record.

“What do you mean, you don’t know the specifics?  Didn’t you just say your whole thing was being some omniscient truth deity or whatever?”

“If I was all-knowing, I would have known you were coming down the stairs.  Anyway, this place is really old and I came along for the ride some arbitrary amount of time ago.  Honestly, I don’t remember what I was doing before I came here.”  Judgment Boy cursed at himself internally.  He loved to hear himself talk, and he had a tendency to say way too much to people.  Especially to guests, and especially things they weren’t supposed to know.  “...That’s all I can tell you, though.  Sorry, your exposition’s run out, and you wasted like half of it on useless details about me.”

“No, it hasn’t, you’re going to tell me about the other people here,” Guest Boy persisted.

Judgment Boy was taken aback.  This guy was easily the most demanding, not to mention stupidly fearless guest he’d ever met.  “Talking to people like that isn’t a great survival strategy at Gregory House.”

“I can already tell you aren’t going to do anything to me.  And you aren’t going to send anyone else after me, you’re the neutral guy.  One less homicidal maniac I have to worry about.”

Judgment Boy didn’t hate all that many things.  People reading him like a billboard had suddenly kicked whatever previously held the top slot right out of its place, though.  “Moderately intimidating mysterious guilt trip demon asshole” was his whole thing.  Someone ripping down all of that left him as just some guy, and that was weird.

 

“Okay,” Judgment Boy began, casting a glance at the Guest in front of him. “I've been thinking about this for quite some time now and I've decided I like you.” He waited expectantly for a response, as if this was some kind of grand honor. A very grand honor to be given on a dusty couch in a dimly lit hotel.

Guest Boy squinted at him. “I've met you twice. One of those times was when you showed up, told me I'm a bad person, and left. The other time was right now. Remember like a minute ago, when I asked you a bunch of questions, and you barely answered them?”

Judgment Boy leaned back and looked at the Guest peculiarly, quite frankly offended. “I gave you all the knowledge you need. Whether or not you can correctly interpret it, and you know what to do with it, is up to you.”

“Holy shit, I cannot believe I'm talking to you right now. If you were a person I knew in any other situation, I would have beaten you up so many times. Does this hotel have lockers? How many have you been stuffed in?”

Judgment Boy was about to say 'That only happened twice, and it was the same locker,' but he bit his tongue because that was a very dumb thing to say and would provide excellent fuel for any further sassy commentary from this Guest here.

“Very rude,” he said instead. “Need I remind you that you are in the presence of a powerful demon?”

“You didn't need to remind me because you didn't tell me that before but thanks for the information you just gave me accidentally when you were directly avoiding giving it to me when I asked in the first place.”

“ _FUCK_ , SON OF A _BITCH_ , GOD _DAMN_ IT, I DID IT _AGAIN_.” Judgment Boy hid his face in his hands and groaned.

Guest Boy calmly waited for Lucifer's obnoxious younger brother the family doesn't like to talk about to finish his tantrum.

Judgment Boy, regaining his composure, picked up his head and peeked slyly through his fingers at Guest Boy. “Listen, as far as I can tell, you're desperate for help, and you need me as, the only person you can trust in this place, to give it to you.” Judgment Boy pushed up his glasses and looked at him intensely in the eyes.

“I don't need you because I trust you, I need you because you're the only one I know I can beat up and who's also a huge enough pushover that I don't have to beat them up in the first place.”

UGH, this kid was sharp. His retorts were too clever to argue back, especially in a suitably melodramatic JUDGMENT BOY fashion. Judgment Boy scrambled around mentally trying to think of something to say back fast.

“See, you aren't even denying it.”

At this point, it was probably better to give in and at least save _SOME_ face, but the more he was one-upped the more he wanted to just one-up this jerk back.

Judgment Boy stared down at his hands half-hidden in too-big sleeves balled up in white-knuckled fists, sighed, and loosened his grip. Curiously, Guest Boy picked up one by the wrist and examined it, Judgment Boy too taken aback and horrified to react, and finally observed, “You have very dainty hands.

“Wh- you- give me that back!”

“It's _your_ hand, you can take it back whenever you want.”

Judgment Boy took a moment to register this piece of information and pulled his hand away, face flush with embarrassment over how stupid he is when he's flustered.

“You know, if you want to stop embarrassing yourself, you should just talk to me like a normal person...” muttered Guest Boy.

Judgment Boy stared into space for a second. Well, not really into space. More specifically, at the grandfather clock across the room. His eyes followed up the tiny swirling lines carved into it. Focusing on minuscule things calmed him, he had figured out some time ago. He thought about what Guest Boy said.

Finally, he said, “I'm not a normal person.”

For the first time, Guest Boy did not have an instant sassy retort. “...Yeah, okay. I guess you aren't.”

They sat there in silence for a moment looking at each other.

Judgment Boy ran circles in his head trying to figure out what mind games this Guest was playing on him, what he was thinking, what he was trying to discover just staring like this. Was he waiting for some unconscious indication or slip-up he could somehow get information from? He was awfully cute, and Judgment Boy was awfully intimidated by cute guests. 'Ughh, I can read auras, not minds,' he thought. 'WHY did I get something so completely useless in practical situations? What the fuck is this guy planning?'

Guest Boy eyed him critically. 'Eh. I'd hit it.'

Warily, Judgment Boy broke the silence. “So, what is it you want from me?” he sighed.

“Mmm.” Guest Boy picked at a loose string on his shirt. “I want you to help me get out of here.”

“But you just got here.” Judgment Boy stared at him quizzically.

“Yes, and I do not want to be here.”

“Yeah, but. You just got here. It's not as bad as you think, just avoid the people who'll kill you and you'll be fine!”

“Are you even remotely aware of the words that are coming out of your mouth?” Guest Boy asked incredulously.

“Um. Yes?”

“Okay. Give me one good reason why I should stay here.”

Judgment Boy stared down at his fingers nervously intertwining and untwining with each other, unable to look the guest in the eye. “Mmmmbecause it's a lovely hotel. It's a little aged but we're having remodeling done soon, I swear. We're going for a Manhattan Plaza aesthetic, you should see the diorama.”

“Nice try. You know I'm not leaving you alone until I get what I want from you, you might as well just go with it.”

“What you. Want from me?” Judgment Boy's face got hot.

“Yes. What I want from you is for you to get me the fuck out of here, remember? I literally said that a minute ago.”

“Oh! Right. Yyyes, that...sure is what I was thinking...” Judgment Boy trailed off.

Guest Boy raised an eyebrow. How obvious can any one person possibly be? Third graders are better at hiding crushes than this guy.  And seriously, what kind of lame demon was this that he got crushes on random people five minutes after he met them?  “So, tell me why you can't get me out of here.”

“Okay, so. Here's the thing. I can't. As a neutral role-d resident of the hotel, I can't just TELL you secrets you aren't supposed to know unless you figure them out for yourself, and I especially just can't lead you out of here back to the mor- where you came from.”

Guest Boy scooted a little bit closer. Judgment Boy scooted a little further away, but soon ran out of couch to scoot back on.  Fuck, he was cornered.

“You can't? Or you just aren't supposed to?”

“I mean...well, technically, I CAN, but that's really, _really_ not something that I want to-”

“-Are you sure?” asked Guest Boy.

“YES! Yes, I'm sure, okay?”

“Do you think-” Guest Boy brushed Judgment Boy's hair behind his ear. “-I could change your mind about that?”

“What are you doing. Whatever you're doing, don't do that. Your hand does not belong anywhere near my face, just like my hand does not belong anywhere near your lap.”

"If you don't want it there, then move it."

 

“...Look, okay, I’ll tell you a LITTLE more, and then you have to get out.”

“Deal.”  Guest Boy moved his hand.

“There are a bunch of different residents in this house.  Most of them aren’t immediately aggressive, but not many of them are helpful.  Some of them have always been here, some of them just kind of appeared, and some of them are what remains of lost souls like you.  Now, get out.”  Judgment Boy yanked Guest Boy to his feet and pushed him towards the stairs as Guest Boy’s socks skid along the hardwood floor.

“Which one are you?”  Guest Boy asked, craning his neck to look at his assailant's flustered face.

“OUT!”

 Judgment Boy gave the Guest a final shove which threw him a little further than expected and sent him face first into the stairwell, knocking his forehead on an edge.  He groaned in pain for a moment before he sat up on the stair and rubbed his forehead.  He could feel sticky warmth pooling up in the new nick in his forehead.

"Oh, jeez, oh, are you bleeding?  Oh, no, oh my gosh, I am so, SO sorry about that, I really didn't mean for that to happen, are you okay?"  He inhaled sharply.

Guest Boy glared.  "I'm alive.  Thanks for not anticlimactically killing me in a tragic staircase accident.  You know, I would have preferred being decapitated by the cook guy, that's at least a lot cooler."

"That's- you probably shouldn't talk like that.  You'll be fine!  I promise."  Judgment Boy was awful at damage control.

"Will I?  This is bleeding pretty badly, and there's no way I'm going to that nurse."

"Are you sure?  She's actually pretty g-"

"There is no way."

"Okay, okay.  Let me, uh...wait here.  Shit, don't wait here, someone might see you.  Um...wait in here."  Judgment Boy threw open a doorway leading into a dusty broom closet and threw on the flickering lights.

Guest Boy looked at him incredulously.  "Are you serious?  You really don't have any better ideas than this?  You LIVE here!"

"Look, it's- it's not that easy, okay?  I'll be right back, please don't move from here."

"I wasn't planning on it.  I'm a little busy trying not to pass out from blood loss."

Grimacing, Judgment Boy closed the closet door and bounded down the hallway.  Skidding to a stop right in front of the nurse's office, he quickly peered through the keyhole to make sure the coast was clear.  The room seemed to be empty.  Nervously, he cracked open the doorway and scooched inside.  He cast a glance around until his eyes fell upon the medicine cabinet.  He rummaged through a couple of drawers until he found a first aid kit, which he quickly popped the lid off of to examine its contents.  Some bandages, some gauze, some cream-looking things in little bottles that were probably for something related to making things not get infected, some wipey things that probably stung, some aspirin...yeah, sure, this should probably be fine.  

Hopefully the guest knew more about first aid than Judgment Boy did, because he mostly opened up the kit in the first place to feel responsible for looking at it to some extent even if he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for.  Judgment Boy clicked the lid back on and stood up before he froze like a deer in the headlights at the woman's silhouette in the doorway.  Fuck, Catherine.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"I am...taking medical supplies in a reasonable amount which should not noticeably depreciate your stores?"

"Why are you stealing my things?  Who's hurt?"  

Judgment Boy looked to the side.  "Um.  I just...wanted them to...uh..."

"Would you look at that, I'm already bored.   You're far too weak-willed for my taste, you know.  I'll let you go for now, since I have other things to do, but I'm not forgetting about this, got it?  If I find out you're using my supplies for something you shouldn't be..."

"Understood!" That was the most ridiculous stroke of divine providence he had ever received.  Judgment Boy bowed and scrambled out of the room and raced down the hall.  Ugh, people here too?!

"Have you seen my dolly?"

"Nope sorry I haven't I'll help you look for it later never mind sike fuck you BYE!"

Judgment Boy could barely get himself to stop with the level of momentum he had built up and ended up stumbling to a standstill.  He quickly looked around the lobby to make sure no one was there.  Thank fuck, Gregory wasn't at the front desk.  Not wanting to push his luck, he ducked into the closet in which he'd made the Guest hide and shut the door behind him.

"I'm back," Judgment Boy panted, "I'm, I'm...present."

"I can see that."

Judgment Boy looked up and covered his mouth.  Blood was trickling down the guest's forehead, painting around his eyes and dribbling down to his mouth.  There were several smears where the Guest had tried to wipe it away.

"Oh, jeez, I am really, so, so sorry that happened, I swear.  I brought - stuff."  Judgment Boy held up the kit and smiled nervously.  "You...wouldn't happen to be able to tell me how to do first aid, would you?"

"You are so lucky I'm not fucking unconscious or else I'd probably be doomed by now.  Here, give me that."

"No, no, just tell me what to do, you can't see what you're doing."

Guest Boy tore open a little packet and handed Judgment Boy a sanitary wipe.  "Clean up the blood, put a trauma pad over the wound, and bandage it."

Judgment Boy, nervous about hurting him even more, started around his cheek, careful not to be rough.  "How do you know all this stuff?"

"Most people know this stuff, but coincidentally, I did take a first aid class in middle school so I could babysit."

Judgment Boy paused.  "So you could what?"

"Babysit.  Watch other people's kids."

"They could have chosen a better word for that," Judgment Boy decided, and continued to wipe away the blood.

"Do you, like.  Go outside?  Ever?"

"...no?"

Guest Boy laughed under his breath.

"What's funny?"

"No, it's just - I cannot believe I am in this situation right now."

"What about it?"

"I'm in the broom closet of a hotel with a demon mopping blood off my forehead while providing me with innumerable bullets of evidence that he's a complete loser when I was almost afraid of him a few hours ago."

"Oh.  Is that.  A bad thing?"

"Yes, but it's not bad because of you.  Frankly, I'm happy to see SOMEONE else here doesn't know what they're doing."

"Thank you?  I think?"

"It was a compliment."

Judgment Boy dressed the wound and wrapped the bandages around Guest Boy's head as well as he could without getting too much of Guest Boy's hair stuck underneath them.

"I...think we're done?" Judgment Boy suggested.

"Yeah, we're done.  Gimme that aspirin, though."

Judgment Boy handed the packet of aspirin tablets to him.  "Uh, I can escort you back to your room, if you want.  No one really goes down that way this time of night."

"That would be nice.  I'm probably too dizzy to remember where it is in the first place."

Judgment Boy helped Guest Boy up and left the closet, making sure to turn the lights off again, and led him down the hallway up to his door.

"Well.  Here you are."

"Here I am."

"Uh...see you?"

Guest Boy slipped into the doorway and smiled at Judgment Boy through the crack it was open.  "See you later, o powerful demon."


	3. The Reaper.  The Grim One.

Judgment Boy found himself staring at the ceiling once more. Here we go again with the guests. He groaned aloud. He considered extending the rule in the future to cover 14 nights, or maybe to change his policy to just altogether avoiding interaction with any guest as long as possible.

The fact was that mortals fascinated him. Okay, so maybe mortals fascinated just about everyone in Gregory House, but they did to him in particular, and his fascination was the most....personal. For instance, Catherine's interest boiled down entirely to whatever sadistic satisfaction she got from holding someone down and bleeding them dry, but with the role he had, Judgment Boy naturally was more concerned with their moralities and personalities.

There's a lot more variety in the little things about people - their voices, their mannerisms, their views, to make a person unique, than the 4 or so blood types making them up. It only made sense for someone like him who couldn't relate to their emotions to have an interest in the characterizations of people.

The problem, he lamented inwardly, is that he got attached to them. He almost felt sick thinking about it. Demons are not supposed to get attached to the people they deal with. Or people at all, really. That's kind of their thing.

In all honesty, he didn't really understand why humans placed value on the things in the scenarios he wrote for their judgments, only the fact that they just were valuable. It was all very interesting.

When he finally peered out of his doorway into the dimly lit corridor, he saw that Guest again, far enough away that the darkness made him a little blurry, looking right in Judgment Boy's direction. After last night's disaster, he really, really didn't want to fuck up some more with this guy.  Frantically, Judgment Boy ducked back in and sidled up against the wall. Please don't let him have seen me, please don't let him have seen me, please don't--  
"Hey, I saw you there."

Fuck.

Judgment Boy, defeated, stepped back into the hall to face this horrible mean Guest. "Yes, you did," he admitted. "What do you want?"

"Jeez, you were pretty chatty last night, what's with the sudden change in attitude?  I was kind of under the impression we were on good terms, you know.  Do you reset your conversation progress every day, and now I have to go through annoying you until you'll have an actual conversation with me all over again?"

Judgment Boy paused.  Maybe he was talking to the Guest just a little too coolly.   "...We aren't on bad terms," he said hesitantly.

"Uh-huh, right.  Listen, I know you're probably really ashamed to have your facade torn down or whatever, but you're not going to succeed in building it back up.  I've already seen the loser behind the curtain, you may as well give up."

God damn it.  Humans were smarter than Judgment Boy remembered them being.  Or maybe this one was just particularly sharp.  He admitted defeat.

"Okay, okay, fine, yes, you got me, my personality doesn't suit the atmosphere I attempt to project very well and I'm by far the least hostile person in this entire hotel, and by extension, probably this dimension as a whole."  Judgment Boy groaned.  "Is that enough humiliation to satisfy you?"

"What?  Dude, no, this is great, it is literally so helpful to have a person I know isn't trying to eat my soul or something who knows this place well enough to be useful."

 _Useful_.  Judgment Boy flinched internally.

"What, did you think I was going to run around telling all your demon friends you're a nerd or something?"

"I don't know.  Probably?"

"Trust me, I'm sure they already know."

Wow, okay.  Ouch.

"Anyway," continued the Guest, "You're helping me."

"I am?" asked Judgment Boy.  "Did we make an agreement or something and I just don't remember it, or...?"

"No, I know preemptively that you're going to help me."

"Well, think again.  I may not be hostile, but I'm an emotionless, true neutral being."

"Bullshit, you have feelings.  You were flipping out last night when you almost killed me."

"No, I'm.  Pretty sure I don't have feelings.  I'm fundamentally incapable."

Guest Boy raised an eyebrow at him.  "I'm the human here.  I think I know a LITTLE bit more about human feelings than you do, and I am pretty sure you have them."

"I disagree, but this argument probably isn't going to go anywhere."

"Okay, just think about this.  If you didn't have feelings, you wouldn't react to anything in a positive or negative way, would you?"

"...I'll think about it," Judgment Boy decided.  "And...fine.  I'll help you."

Guest Boy smiled brightly.  "Thanks so much!  What else can you tell me about this place?"

"Oh, is it exposition time?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I, I'm...not really supposed to tell you this stuff.  That's kind of the whole point, you have to figure it out on your own."

"Says who?"

"The people in charge that I'm probably not supposed to tell you about either."

Guest Boy leaned in a little closer.  "No one has to know it was you who told me.  Isn't me persuading you to tell me just another method of me figuring it out on my own?"

"I...guess that makes sense?"

"So, come on.  Tell me."

"Let me ask you a question first.  What has the Reaper told you so far?"

"Who?" Guest Boy asked quizzically.

"The Reaper.  The Grim one.  Personification of the abstract concept of mortality."

"I am absolutely certain I have not spoken to the Grim Reaper, I'm sure I would remember it."

"Really?  That's...strange.  He always speaks to the Guests, what kept him from doing it this time?" Judgment Boy wondered aloud.

"Why would the Grim Reaper want to talk to all the Guests?"

Judgment Boy covered his mouth.  "Oh.  Oh, you really are in the dark, aren't you?  You don't know?"

"What do I not know?" the Guest demanded.

"When a being equal parts good and evil is sent into limbo..." Judgment Boy explained, "...a horrible rat woman tries to eat your soul."

"I - what."

"I don't think I can explain it much simpler than that, so here's the long version. This place exists in the crossroads between both life and death and heaven and hell. You're here because your soul falls into the grey area between virtuous and evil, and you'll continue to be here until your actions here determine where you'll end up finally. You're dead, dearest Guest."

There was a moment of dead silence, where Guest Boy just stared at Judgment Boy with his brow furrowed and his mouth agape. And then he broke down.

"I-I....I'm...d-de...y-you..re.....?" Guest Boy's pauses were syncopated with hiccups. Judgment Boy had never seen someone so suddenly shift to grief. The Guest in front of him trembled violently and looked as though his knees were about to buckle. Guest Boy's eyes were wide in shock and already bloodshot from the tears beginning to pool up in them. He covered his mouth as if he was about to be sick and choked back a sob.

"Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god. Please don't cry." Judgment Boy was still fairly certain he couldn't experience emotion in the way humans could, especially not with this intensity, so he had no way of empathizing with....whatever was going on here, aside from knowing it wasn't something he was equipped to deal with. He nervously patted Guest Boy's shoulder. That's how you comfort people, right?

If he thought very hard about it, Judgment Boy could remember what might have been feeling strongly about something at some point, but he couldn't remember when or what it was. Whatever it was, the knowledge of it wasn't particularly helpful to the situation because it was so hazy. Maybe interfering would just make things worse, he thought, and he should just let the Guest cry himself out?

Judgment Boy was surprised by something and blinked, and it took him a moment to realize that the Guest had practically collapsed, arms clinging tightly around him, with his head buried into his chest.  Oh.  Okay.  Judgment Boy was exceptionally uncomfortable with this turn of events.  He didn't like having other people's hands on him, and at this point an entire person was on him, and their weird, probably unsanitary salty eye waters were seeping through his shirt.

Guest Boy knew this was not the same as comfort from an actual human being, and that the demon he was hugging half to death was probably completely confused as to what was going on.  In a way, that made him even sadder, but at this point he wasn't particularly picky about whoever was giving him physical comfort.  Pretending someone cared was good enough for now.  He spent a couple minutes crying himself out before he finally sat up and rubbed the tears away from his puffy face.  Judgment Boy was reminded of the blood on it last night.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, that's embarrassing.  I just- I'm in shock, I guess."

"There was a shock blanket in the first-aid kit," Judgment Boy offered helpfully.

Guest Boy cracked a smile, and then started laughing hysterically.

"Did I say something funny?" Judgment Boy asked.

"Yes, you did.  Do you...think you could maybe show me around some more?"

"What?"

"Like, a guided walking tour.  Just show me shit in the Hellton here and tell me about it."

"Is there a particular reason you want to do that?"

"It'll make me feel better."

"Um, okay, if you say so.  We'll have to be a little sneaky, though, we don't want to get caught together.  If I get caught  _helping_ a guest, Gold's going to kick my ass - no, I'm going to get fired, and then Gold's gonna kick my ass, they're going to throw me in the death basement never to be seen again, but that's not going to matter because I'm going to be fired and also already dead because Gold killed me, and-"

"I get it, I get it."  Guest Boy waved his hand dismissively.  "Don't worry, I'm not gonna jeopardize your career.  Who's Gold?"

"He's the leader of the Judgment Boys.  Anyway-"

"Wait, wait, back up, Judgment...Boys?  With an 'S'?  Plural?"

"Yes."

"There's multiple."

"Yes."

"There are a bunch of yous running around."

"Not exactly?  They have the same role I do, but they aren't me, they're totally different personalities.  You probably don't want to meet them, they're kind of a headache."

"Eh, that's fine.  I like this one anyway.  Let's go!"

 

"Okay, so, if you look in through this little crack in the wall here, you can see the inside of the kitchen.  The hallways nearby are extra creaky so you'll know if anyone's coming."  Judgment Boy scooted aside so the Guest could get in and look.

"How'd you even find this?  I never would have noticed it unless you pointed it out."

"I've been here awhile, so I know all the good hiding spots."

Guest Boy squinted trying to get a good look through the wall.  "How long have you been here?"

"That's a good question!  I have no clue."

"Seriously?  Do you know what you were doing before you got here?"

"Nope."

"That's kind of tragic.  Oh, jeez, you brought me here to show me that cook guy again?  He almost killed me, you know."

"He does that.  I like him!  He does not like me."

"Seriously?  Is there some stunning aspect of his personality I'm missing out on?"

"Ah, no, what you've seen pretty much encompasses the entirety of it for the most part.  Catherine's totally in love with him, though."

"Catherine?  Nurse Catherine?" Guest Boy frowned.

"I know, isn't it crazy?"  Judgment Boy grinned, flashing razor-sharp teeth.  Guest Boy felt something hitch in his throat.  He was reminded of that needle plunging into his arm once again and his face grew pale.

Judgment Boy noticed something here was wrong.

"Hey, do you think we could go somewhere else?" Guest Boy requested.

"Yeah, sure!  Here, this way."

From a corner away, James shuddered.  If they hadn't spoken at that exact moment, they definitely would have heard him misstep onto that creaky board.  He'd noticed them coming down the stairs earlier and he'd been trailing them ever since trying to figure out what they were up to.  James wasn't sure, but it certainly  _looked_ like mischief, and mischief was his specialty.  He was impressed older people knew anything about it.  Still, it was awfully strange for a Judgment Boy to be wandering around conversing so casually with a Guest.  If Judgment Boy was helping him, James decided, then so be it.  The odds weighing a little more against Gramps for once was bound to be entertaining, and James also trusted Judgment Boy's, well, judgment. He wasn't about to question the decisions of an entity based entirely around decision making.  That would be dumb, and James was not dumb.  He always made sure to stay a hall behind them.

"Oh, hey!"  Judgment Boy stopped and pointed to a doorway.  "It's My Son."

"...Your son?"

"No, not _Your_ Son, _My_ Son."

"So, _your_ son."

"...where are you getting 'Your Son?'"

"You just said we were talking about your son!"

"No, I just said we're talking about _My_ Son."

Hearing the bickering outside the door, My Son dropped what he was doing and cracked open the door.

"Oh, right, you're the new guest!  It's nice to finally meet you, I'm My Son."

Guest Boy looked as though he was about to lose it.  "You're- your...name, is literally 'My Son?'"

"Uh, yeah?"

"I hate this fucking place."

 

"Okay, I've introduced you to every non-hostile entity on this floor of the hotel, and we've spied on most of the hostile ones.  Satisfied?"

"I'd say it was a pretty productive day," Guest Boy concurred.

They were excellent partners in crime, James thought.  He was a little jealous.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you again, demon?" Guest Boy smiled.  "Hopefully, without having to convince you to talk to me all over again.  By the way, I just realized we never talked about this.  My name is Ty."

"Okay.  Can I still call you the Guest?"

"I mean, I'd prefer you didn't, but I guess you can.  What's your name?"

"I already told you I'm Judgment Boy."

"Yes, I am still very aware that you're Judgment Boy.  I mean your actual name."  He held out his hand.

Judgment Boy took the hand and moved it back to Guest Boy's - er, "Ty's," side, where hands are supposed to be when not in use. He genuinely considered the question, and then gave his answer.

"Maybe I did, but if I did, I don't remember it and I'm not whoever that person was anymore anyway."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's starting


	4. Does It, Like...Get in the Way?

"JB, meet Phillip," said Ty, gesturing.

"This is a hole in the wall."

"Yes, and it's also Phillip.  Phillip the hole in the wall was originally my only friend here, so now I am introducing you, my second friend here, to Phillip."

"This is kind of ridiculous."

"You live in _literal hell_.  Crawl into the fucking hole."

Judgment Boy made a grumbly sound but didn't further argue and got into the dusty hole with Ty.  It was bigger than it looked from the outside, it may have been intended as an actual crawlspace at some point.  "And just so you know, I don't  _live_ here, I  _exist_ here, there's a big difference."

"Yeah, yeah, semantics, whatever."  Ty paused.  "Actually.  I hadn't even thought about that.  I guess you're dead too, huh?"

"Is it the same if I'm a demon?  I thought that was a separate thing entirely."

"You're dead, welcome to the dead club."

"Whatever you say, Guest."  Judgment Boy rolled his eyes.

"Ty.  My name is Ty.  I am not 'guest,' that's a common noun, not a name."  He glared.

"Ughh, but that's...weeeird.  You don't just walk around calling Guests by their 'names.'  There isn't even a reason for it, you just don't."

"Yes, which is why you should call me what I want you to call me."

"I'm making a genuine effort, you should work with me here."

"Or you could just call me by my name.  It's not that difficult."

Judgment Boy pouted.  "Well, yeah, but-"

He was interrupted by Ty coughing.  Judgment Boy's head snapped up.

"Are you okay?" he demanded.

"What?  Yes, I'm fine.  I just coughed, it's dusty in here, you-"

"Don't do that."

"You're.  Telling me to not cough."

"Yes.  Because it's bad."

"How did you come to that conclusion, exactly?"

Judgment Boy looked at Ty very seriously.  "I don't know, but it's bad, so don't do it."

"O...kay.  I'll make a genuine effort to not cough.  As long as you make a genuine effort to use my actual name."

"Okay. Thank you, Ty."

They were quiet for awhile.

"So," Judgment Boy began, "Is there a reason we came here aside from introducing me to your hidey-hole?

"Yes, I'm going to sleep here."

"...why not in your room?"

Ty groaned.  "I  _can't_ sleep in my room.  I've gotten maybe an hour of sleep, tops, since I got here, because I'm too worried about someone coming into my room and murdering me, and whether or not I'm already dead, I definitely still feel pain!  Look at my eyes, JB.  Look at them."

"What am I looking for, exactly?"  Judgment Boy hesitated.

"Circles, JB.  When people are tired, they get dark circles under their eyes."

"Well, you have a dark something, but it's more like half of an oval than a circle," Judgment Boy observed.  "Also, I'm Judgment Boy, 'JB' sounds wrong."

"So does Judgment Boy!  I'm not going to keep referring to you like some weird discount DC comics sidekick, can't you just pick a name?"

"See, that's the thing, you say you aren't the Guest, you're Ty.  Same here, I'm not anyone else, I'm Judgment Boy."

"Didn't you say there were like, a bunch more people with the same exact job as you?"

"Yes."

"Are they ALL called Judgment Boy?"

"Yes.  They have suffixes to their names, though.  Judgment Boy One, Judgment Boy Two, Judgment Boy Three, Judgment Boy Four, Judgment Boy Gold-"

Ty was unamused.  "That is _literally_ the stupidest thing I've ever heard, I- no, I'm done talking about this, I'm fuckin' tired, good night."

"It's 3 PM," Judgment Boy pointed out.

" _Good night_."  Ty turned away and flopped onto his side.

Judgment Boy felt like he had done something wrong, but he wasn't entirely sure what.  He was pretty sure that somewhere in there, he had offended Gues- Ty.  His name is Ty.  What Judgment Boy wasn't sure of was what had actually offended him.

He stared up at the ceiling and traced his view along the paths of the spiderwebs.  Even though they weren't made by a person, they still made patterns and followed rules.  Things that followed rules pleased him.  Things created by people followed rules.  Nature followed rules.  Why didn't people themselves follow rules?  Why were they so difficult to understand?  Why did they always assume he would understand what they were trying to tell him if they didn't actually tell him?

He looked back at Ty, asleep.  Not even being able to see auras was helpful.  Understanding alignment wasn't helpful in trying to figure out emotions to begin with, but in Ty's case, it was infinitely more unhelpful than usual because his was constantly shifting - shifting like a scale teetering back and forth, and fading through different hues of colors.  Sometimes it would flash like static on a TV screen and change entirely, breaking the little bit of a discernible pattern it did have.  Right now, it was an emerald green- no, it changed.  Turquoise.

Judgment Boy growled in frustration and pulled off his glasses.  Maybe absolutely _everything_ being a blurry mess would save him from having to look at those stupid changey colors any longer.  He heard Ty moving and Judgment Boy realized he had been loud just then and covered his mouth.  Didn't want to wake him up, _definitely_ didn't want to alert the hotel to the fact that he was sitting in a hole in the wall watching a human sleep.

Well, at least he wasn't watching _anymore_.  Judgment Boy's constant urge to stare at people in the vicinity may have been overwhelming, but no amount of willpower would fix his vision.

Stupid frustrating human person.  Judgment Boy generally was very dedicated to staying away from things that frustrated him, but he liked him too much.  He thought for a minute about some things Ty had said that stayed with him the most.

_"That's okay, I like this one."_

_"-you, my second friend here-"_

_"See you later, o powerful demon."_

_"I was kind of under the impression we were on good terms."_

_"No, this is great, it's so helpful to have a person-"_

_"-Who knows this place well enough to be useful."_

UGH.  He grimaced, shoved his glasses back on, and looked at Ty yet again.  Ty had said that when they weren't as familiar, right?  They'd been sneaking around together for several days now, so he didn't think of him in terms of usefulness anymore, right?

It was several hours of silence and blankness clouding over Judgment Boy's head like a perpetual dial tone before he was alerted by the sound of something moving nearby him.

Ty sat up and rubbed his eyes, then glanced up at Judgment Boy.

"You know, I'm looking at you right now," Ty mumbled, "And I'm thinking..."

Judgment Boy's face got hot. Oh, god, he was about to say something related to those icky uncomfortable incomprehensible emotions, wasn't he?

"Why is your nose so pointy?"

"I- what?"

"It's just...so pointy. And like, it's turned up so far you can't distinguish where your nose ends and the rest of your face begins, it's like, a straight line."

"...What kind of a question is that?"

"And does it, like...get in the way? I mean, do you have a blind spot directly in front of your face where your nose is, because it's on like, the same level as your eyes?"

For the first time, Judgment Boy laughed.

 


	5. The

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!! Thanks so, so much for supporting my story! Seven Night Rule is now the most subscribed fic in the Gregory Horror Show tag, and it was briefly also the most Kudos'd!   
> As of me uploading this chapter, I have a lot of additions I've made to the first four of them, to the point where some of them have basically been totally rewritten. The story's a little further behind than it was at the time of its publishing because I've decided it needs to be longer than I had originally planned it, but it's still going in the same direction in terms of where it's going to end up. The plot hasn't changed, don't worry!  
> If you're an older reader and you haven't already, I strongly recommend you reread the first four chapters before you move on to this one. Thanks so much for your continued support, and I hope you guys still enjoy it even with the changes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" asked Judgment Boy.

"That is literally the first time I have ever seen you laugh," Ty explained.

Judgment Boy looked at him in confusion. "Well, yes, you've known me for a week. What are the odds that I would have laughed in that time period?"

"Pretty high, for a normal person. Actually, I was starting to think maybe you were right about not having feelings, or at least, not having as many. The only emotions I have seen you express are 'triumph,' 'sarcasm,' and 'fuck.'"

"I'm...pretty sure those aren't words for emotions."

"Well, they're words for what you have. Anyway, you snort when you laugh."

Judgment Boy froze. "I what?" he whispered in horror.

"Jesus Christ, chill out, it's not that big of a deal. You look like you just witnessed a murder."

Judgement Boy was busy rambling. "I can't believe no one ever told me that, that's so humiliating-"

"No one told you probably because no one cares."

"Of course they care, they just don't say anything, that's so...un...la...dylike?" Judgment Boy stopped.

"Are. Are you doin' okay there, dude? You're starting to confuse me."

"I...am also starting to confuse me. I think what I meant to say was that it's gauche?"

"That's a really stupid word. Also, I'm changing the subject, because you look like you're hurting yourself thinking too hard."

"I am not-"

"Shut up, I'm telling a story. Okay, so, my name isn't actually Ty."

"...You _lied_ to me," Judgment Boy said incredulously.

"No. Well, yes. You are taking so much offense to everything today, you know that? My name is Hiroshi Taira."

"He Row She Tyler?" Judgment Boy repeated, or at least attempted to.

"No. Not Tyler. Taira. Like, Tyra Banks, the talk show lady. Apparently, I can't even expect hell demons to have broad enough cultural horizons to know how to say my name."

"I don't normally bother with names to begin with; I wanted to call you Guest," Judgment Boy muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I figured out by the time I was in like the third grade that basically no one ever knew how to pronounce my name, for some ungodly reason. Like, you say it exactly how it's spelled, I don't understand why people have difficulty with that, but whatever. So eventually I was just like, fuck it, call me Ty, that's the first syllable of my last name. You guys can't fuck up Ty."

"So, do you want me to still call you Ty?"

"Yes, I prefer it at this point. I still suffered with my stupid name through the rest of high school, though. 'Hey, what's your last name?' 'It's Taira.' 'Tyler, cool, got it.' No. You don't got it. I got suspended for two weeks in the tenth grade because I went to a screen printing business and had custom t-shirts made that said 'MY LAST NAME ISN'T FUCKING TYLER' on them." Ty groaned aloud.

"Okay, so...is there a point I'm supposed to be getting that I'm missing?" Judgment Boy asked.

"No, I just told you a story. People tell stories to other people just to tell them stuff. Like when I told you about how I learned first aid for babysitting that one time, there wasn't any point to me telling you that, I just told you because that's what people do."

"I feel like there's something I'm missing out on here conceptually, but okay. Are you going to tell another one now?"

"Uh, sure. We're probably gonna be hanging out here awhile, I kind of don't want to go back into the fray of Motel Hell over there. Well, I am at least, no one's making you stay, but knowing you you're going to stay anyway because you don't have anything better to do."

"Is that an insult?" Judgment Boy asked.

"No, it was just a neutral statement. So, do you wanna hear the lawnmower story, the siamese cat story, the marbles story, or the exchange student story?"

"How am I supposed to know which one if I haven't heard any of them?"

"You just take a guess based on the titles."

"Okay. The siamese cat story?"

"Excellent choice. Okay, so, this girl who lived down the street from me, Shanaya, _really cute_ girl, tennis team captain, fourth place in GPA ranking, tells me she and her family are going to Spain over the summer and she needs someone to take care of her siamese cat. And I'm like sure, cool, I like cats, you're nice, totally. And she was acting really weird about it, like- she kept saying things like, are you sure you want to do this? It's gonna be a really huge handful, you know, everyone else turned down the job. And I'm thinking, how bad can this one cat possibly be?"

"I have a feeling this isn't going to end well," Judgment Boy grimaced.

"If it ended well, it wouldn't be a story. The day she takes off for Spain she drops her cat off inside a little carrier, I open it up, and out comes this fucking cat. Yeah, so, turns out, when she said it was a siamese cat? She wasn't talking about the _breed_ of cat called a siamese, she was talking about it being a _conjoined cat_. It was like, two different cats attached to each other at the side. These are two fully formed cats, too, not like, one cat body but two cat heads or something, they were two completely functional cats that happened to be attached to each other."

Judgment Boy could not picture whatever expression Ty might have made in reaction to that.

"And I see on top of the cage," he continued, "She dropped off this care manual, typed up herself in MLA format and everything, 67 double-sided pages thick, spiral bound. She seems to consider them a single being, despite the fact that they are very obviously two different animals stuck together, I mean they can move completely independently of each other and one can be awake while the other is asleep, this was- it was _not_ a singular cat, okay?"

"That's...I'm honestly not sure how to react to that. I'm speechless."

"Me too, buddy. Me too. I take like, ten minutes to react to what the fuck just occurred in front of me, and then I realize I have to open up that care manual and read that shit because like fuck I'm gonna be the one responsible for the death of Shanaya Tucker's pet medical anomaly. And these cats, they have like, the most detailed care instructions ever. I was wondering how the hell she managed to be tennis team captain and get all those straight A's when she has a cat schedule that's literally mapped out for 24 hours of the day."

Ty sighed as if remembering a departed loved one.

"I don't think I did anything that summer but take care of that cat. 6 am, eye drops, feed the cat, make sure you feed her only real organic veal, cooked warm but still bloody, take her out for three walks a day, if you ever leave the house make sure you leave on the radio playing smooth jazz or else she gets lonely, and an entire packet more of bullshit."

"I...am so sorry."

"Me too, buddy. Me too. She comes back two days before the end of the summer, I'm a literal mess, my sleep schedule is totally fucked, I crave death. She comes up to the door, I hand her the cat carrier, and she says, 'cool, thanks,' and leaves." Ty's face is that of a broken man.

"That's all?"

"That's all. I am a martyr for the cause of weird cats, okay? A _martyr_."

"I agree."

"Anyway, thanks for listening to my story. I think I kind of feel better now, actually."

"I didn't know you felt bad before," Judgment Boy said. In all honesty, he felt kind of awkward during the duration of this, because he had no clue what he was supposed to say or do in reaction. When you read stories out of books, they don't expect you to respond. When you have conversations with people, they do expect you to respond. So which was it?

"No, I just mean, like. I was starting to feel like the things I did while I was alive before I got here weren't relevant anymore, and I was worried I was going to forget them. You mentioned that some of the people here were other people like me who got lost and I really, really don't want that to happen."

Ty hadn't struck Judgment Boy as the type of person to have those kinds of anxieties. "You're welcome?"

"Nah, I don't expect you to know what to say." Ty waved his hand dismissively. "I don't even expect you to say anything, I just kind of appreciate you listening to me. The people here talk a lot about themselves but they never care about anything you have to say, so you're special."

Judgment Boy's face reddened.

"Fuck, I'm still tired, I'm going back to sleep. By the way, I'm not mad at you, so stop worrying about that thing from like two hours ago."

 


	6. This Is Where It Finally Gets Gay In Case You Were Wondering

Judgment Boy was startled by a knock on his door in the middle of the night. He quickly felt around for his glasses in the dark and went to answer it.

Ty was standing there, staring blankly at him.

"Wh- how did you even find out where my room was?" Judgment Boy inquired.

Ty snorted. "Please, I can hear you practicing your dumb routine all the way down the hall every single day. Did you know, that actually scared me the first time? So, good job on that, loser."

"What are you doing here?"

Ty shifted uncomfortably. His demeanor changed all of a sudden. "Um...I don't know, it was harder for me to sleep than usual. It constantly feels like something's....trying to get to me, and, I don't know, I feel safer around you than by myself."

Judgment Boy stared at him. He was having difficulty fully comprehending what was even happening.

Ty took a deep breath. "I'm coming in whether you want me to or not; I'm not going back to that empty room."

Judgment Boy took a small step out of the way and Ty came right in and turned the lights on in a way that was probably closest in appearance to just slapping the wall. Then he took a look around. A good look around. He walked around and examined things like a detective and Judgment Boy felt extremely violated. Finally, Ty made a conclusion.

"It's really tidy in here. But that's because there's nothing in here to tidy. There's like, literally nothing in this room, what the fuck. Why is the rentable guest room more decorated than your room that you live in permanantly? Is that a kitten-a-day wall calendar."

"Uh. Which question am I answering first?"

"Never mind, don't say anything. I'm afraid to look in your closet because I just know it'll be that same ugly-ass striped shirt twenty fucking times like you're a goddamn cartoon character. Actually-" He stopped in his tracks and came over, and ruffled Judgment Boy's hair, which was pretty fluffy not being mostly covered. "This is the first time I've seen you without the dumb hat. How does it stay on? It's like, a Link hat."

"A what?"

"Never mind, how does it stay on? Like, does it have an elastic band or something?"

"Uh, no, I bobby-pin it in place in the morning," Judgment Boy explained.

Ty burst out laughing. "What. Ohhhh, my GOD, that's so STUPID!" he managed to choke out in between laughs.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Nooo, no, no, no, no, no, there's no real reason why, it's just, first thing in the morning, a demon's gotta pin his hat on, huh?"

Judgment Boy was still confused but went with it anyway. Ty sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him invitingly. "Come here."

"Why?" asked Judgment Boy as he did it anyway.

"I dunno, it was getting weird just standing around in the middle of a room. Okay, not that it isn't still weird. This whole thing is weird. You're weird. I'm weird. Look, what I'm trying to say is, I know this is uncomfortable for you? I know you aren't used to this. I mean, talking to people this much or having them in your personal space. Maybe it's just because I'm in fucking hell and I had to settle, but I don't normally make friends this quickly. And I especially don't like them this much."

Judgment Boy had nothing to say for once. He loved to talk, but whenever Ty brought up feelings and emotions and relationships, he didn't have any input to give. Maybe it was his own lack of experience.

Ty kept talking. "So, you know, trust me, I know it's weird, that's all I'm saying right now." He sighed and turned his head up to look at the ceiling. "...I wish there were stars there instead of cracks."

Judgment Boy looked at him a moment before turning his head to the ceiling as well. "What does a star look like?"

"Oh. Uh, it's a little light in the sky, but I think you'd have to see them to understand the fuss. Maybe I'll have an opportunity to show you sometime."

"I doubt you'll find them anywhere around here."

"I'm not staying here forever, you know. I don't know when, exactly, or how, but I am getting out of here." Ty's expression hardened.

"Guess after that I'll have to wait for another Guest to show up so they can leave too," Judgment Boy muttered.

Ty turned his head to look at him and smiled wryly. "I didn't say you couldn't come."

Judgment Boy's heart raced, but just for a second. "You know demons tied to this place can't come and go as they please, right?"

"What do you mean? I thought you did what you wanted."

"No, not at all. I'm pretty much bound to here."

"How does that work?"

"Okay, to be honest, I don't completely know how it works, and I don't fully remember it. But it seems like all the residents here were guests...who ended up staying permanently. If they don't - uh, die here, and they don't escape, which I'm not sure anyone's ever done, they stay. And since I've been here, a couple of guests - most of them died, but some of them stayed. And changed a little. Or a lot."

Realization was very slowly dawning on Ty. "Wait, wait, what do you mean die here? Aren't the people here already dead?"

"Yeah, dead in the living world. What I mean is, human souls are burned to keep this place in existence. Or something like that. I'm not actually extremely familiar with the mechanics of it because it's not really relevant to me or my role. I'm just here to tell people if they're being awful people or not. Remember what I said about the rat lady?"

"...very vaguely."

"Yeah, that."

"So..." Ty trailed off. He stared at his own hands like they were disappearing. "Everyone here was a person. The nurse lady, and the cook guy, and the clock kid, and you, and...oh my GOD that's so FUCKED! Like, seriously, that's fucked up! I thought Clockwork Orange was fucked up, this is a different level, dude! What the hell, man? This is just, unnecessarily complicated and cruel, you know? Isn't purgatory just supposed to be deciding whether you go to heaven or hell, not whether or not you're suitable to be the next haunted bellboy or some shit?"

Judgment Boy sighed. "Listen, I don't have all the answers.  And it's not _necessarily_ all of them; some of them just showed up."

"How does it even work, like it literally doesn't make sense!" Ty continued, almost raving. "What determines if you're gonna be one of these other wacky characters or one of apparently multiple moral evaluation douches?"

"I just said-"

"I know what you said, I'm just! Talking!"

It was quiet for a few moments.

Ty asked, quieter this time, "Do you remember when you got here?"

"Not at all."

"So, you just, forgot everything about your life and stuff? And your name?"

"I guess so."

Ty hugged his knees. His eyes were watering a little. "I don't want that to happen. Maybe I don't always...like who I am, but I don't want to lose that."

"I don't know, I feel like it worked out for me."

"No, it's terrible what happened to you, too! Even if you're okay with doing whatever it is you do right now, you were still...a person."

Judgment Boy looked at him and felt a little of what might have been sadness, or maybe pity. "God, what are you doing here? You're too nice for this place."

"I could ask you the same thing."

It was quiet for another few moments and Judgment Boy felt something soft brush up against his cheek, and realized Ty had leaned over and quickly kissed him. His face burned up red.

"Look, I'm still going to leave. Somehow. I'll figure it out. Maybe I can figure something out for you, too."

"I think you should give up on that."

"I think you should shut the fuck up."


	7. Everything Happens So Much

Judgment Boy slowly woke up, the image of the ceiling fading in from black as he fluttered his eyes open. He grumbled to himself upon finding his glasses were still on, all smudged.

He turned over to wipe them off on the sheets, saw Ty nestled in the bed right next to him, and screamed loud enough that they could probably hear it all the way in the world of the living.

Ty shot up, looking panicked, and then panic faded into irritation. "What the fuck, dude. I was sleeping."

"Well, I'm SORRY, I wasn't expecting you to be in here!"

"It's not like I would have left overnight or something. I told you my ass was staying planted in this room. Also, you just woke up the whole hotel!" Tetchily, Ty blew a piece of hair that had fallen over his eyes out of the way.

Judgment Boy replied flatly, "Yes, of course, I remembered that while I was asleep all the way until waking up and wasn't startled at all by you being there. This is completely normal and I have no issue adapting to severe deviations from the norm in my life."

"Don't get sarcastic with me, you're bad at it and it's physically painful. Speaking of physically painful, you are literally the worst fucking cuddle buddy imaginable."

"Maybe that's because I don't like being touched."

"You're a demon."

"I don't understand what that has to do with my personal space preferences!"

'This is semi-romantic friendship, right?' Ty thought. 'Bickering? This is what I've done with every person I've ever dated, I'm pretty sure this is how it's supposed to go.'

They argued for another good twenty minutes before Ty clasped his hand over Judgment Boy's mouth, Judgment Boy having been in the middle of an extensive lecture about how 'demon' was more like an identifier of species and didn't have an associated set of characteristics all demons are supposed to conform to.

"Okay, being a demon doesn't mean you aren't allowed to be a fucking pansy, I got it. Now can you please pin your stupid hat on or whatever else you do to get ready so we can get out of here?"

"You never said we were-"

"Did you think I was planning on sitting in your room all day? No, we're going to try to figure out how the fuck I get out of this hotel."

"What, do you expect me to know where you'd be able to get that information?"

"No, I expect you to walk me through all the decrepit dark passageways without people in them that you know of because that's where I'm going to find bookshelves that open into secret rooms with documentation that informs me I murdered my wife and I'm on Shutter Island or whatever the big secret is," Ty said, as if this was obvious.

Judgment Boy reluctantly led Ty into the first hallway towards the back of the hotel, full of vacant rooms and dead ends.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in the lobby, My Son was in the midst of repairing a clock, as was his responsibility, while James excitedly prattled on about something he was only half listening to.

"He's just so cool!"

In a tone that was a lot closer to 'dully saying' than 'asking,' My Son asked, "Are we still talking about Judgment Boy?"

"Huh? No, he's okay still, I guess. I'm talking about Ty."

"You should tell me when the next idol of the week meeting is; then I'll be able to keep up with this stuff. Ty's the Guest, right? ...I ask, knowing that there is no one living in this hotel named Ty and we only have one Guest."

"Yes, Ty is the Guest," James said impatiently.

"Thank you for illuminating that. Where's my screwdriver?"

James dropped the screwdriver on top of My Son's head, expecting it to stay there and then diabolically inconvenience My Son to have to move his hand up away from his work to take it down. However, instead it cut the top of My Son's head, rolled forward, fell past his hands, scraping his right thumb, and landed, clattering, in a pile of gears.

My Son set down what he was doing, sat up, turned to James, and said absolutely nothing, just staring at him. Still wordlessly, he reached his hand to the top of his head and examined the small smudge of blood that coated his fingers when he did so. He pressed his finger to James's forehead and left a red fingerprint on it.

"Oh, my GOD, why did you do that?" James asked frantically, attempting to wipe the thumbprint off, though it just smeared a little. "You don't just! Wipe your blood on people! That's how you spread Hepatitis!"

"That's the toll I exact for having wronged me. You're now marked with blood, a symbol of the pain you've inflicted on me. Also, we're dead. Tuberculosis is spread by air, but Judgment Boy hasn't infected anyone despite never shutting up, has he? I don't think you need to worry about Hepatitis."

James's face contorted in confused horror. "You're so weird. Is your blood oath or whatever permanent? Also, you lost me."

"No, it comes off with soap and warm water. The stain on your soul for your sin will never fade, though. Where'd I lose you?"

"What was that bit about Judgment Boy and Tuberculosis?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, you showed up after him. He died of Tuberculosis. If you bring it up, though, he won't know what you're talking about. If you haven't noticed, most people forget their histories once they're assimilated. I'm timekeeper, so it's my job. By the way, don't listen to him when he says he's older than me, I've been here about forty years longer than him." Apparently having gotten over his traumatic injury, My Son picked the offending screwdriver up and got back to work. "So, what were you saying about the Guest?"

James's expression lit up. "Oh, right! He's been running around all over without anyone noticing him, and he's working on an escape plan under everyone's nose. Except me. But I'm not telling anyone. Except you, because you don't care, and you're not going to do anything about it. I like to see the odds against us every so often."

"Hey, you're right, I don't care. My job is clocks. I care about clocks. An escape plan, huh? Well, he's not the first one. I wonder how much he's got worked out. Hey, you do know, if your mancrush escapes, he's out of here forever and doesn't become a permanent resident, right?"

James stopped. You could hear the cogs in his head moving. "Oh."

"Yeah, not that I don't think the guy doesn't deserve a fair chance, but your reconnaissance concealment plan doesn't make sense for your actual goal."

"I...think I have some stuff I need to do."

"Don't let me stop you. Don't worry, somehow, I'll be able to work without you pestering me."

James stuck his tongue out at My Son and scampered out of the room.

* * *

 

"Nice dead end, asshole," Ty spat.

"You told me to take you to the dead ends so you could look for clues!" Judgment Boy cried. "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong!"

"You're taking me to places that don't have clues!"

"How am I supposed to know which ones don't have clues!?"

"You aren't, I'm being an asshole and taking it out on you."

"Judgment!" interjected a tiny voice.

Ty was quiet for a second. "Did your voice just go up like, three octaves?"

Judgment Boy turned around to face Ty, and then froze in place, gaze fixed directly behind Ty.

Ty turned around. Standing there was a tiny kid, who came up to about his chest. He was beaming, carrying two cages liked the ones that had been attached to Judgment Boy's staff, except these ones were tied to his fingers. He was swimming in an oversized poncho in the same familiar hideous stripe pattern, with a number "4" on the front. Unlike Judgment Boy's pasty complexion, and a bit darker than Ty's yellowish-beige color, his skin was a light russet brown, looking a little strange in contrast with his outcropping of bright blond hair. His hat was stiff and pointy, giving him the odd overall appearance of being a strange, very festive little gnome.

"Oh my god," Ty breathed. "He's so cute! Aw, look, he's like a tiny you!"

"Four, what the hell are you doing out here?" Judgment Boy demanded.

Ty glared at Judgment Boy. "Watch your fuckin' language, there's a kid here! Did you just call him Four?"

"Yes," began Judgment Boy, "His name is Four. He's not-"

"That's stupid. His name is Russell now. Do you like that name?" Ty asked, lifting the little kid up into the air. "Aw, he likes it."  
Judgment Boy looked at him incredulously. "You can't just assign names to children, you weirdo! Also, he's a good decade older than you! Four, did you run away again? Where are the others?"

Judgment Boy's question was answered by a harsh voice yelling out, "FOUR! GET BACK HERE!"

Judgment Boy snapped his fingers and muttered, "God damn it."

Turning the corner was yet another one of them in that awful fuchsia-yellow-purple stripe pattern, his shirt emblazoned with a stitched on "1," but forgoing the apparent standard pointy hat with an ushanka, and a tuft of blond hair barely visible. Looking at One, who was tall, dark, and nearly broad, Ty whispered "swole" under his breath, with a fundamental misunderstanding of what swole means.

From Ty's hands, One took Four, who called out again, "Judgment!" pointing to Judgment Boy.

"Hey, check it out, Zero, he remembers you. That's shocking, given you're never around," One said.

"Zero," Ty repeated. "Hey, I know you guys use a weirdly dehumanizing number system to refer to each other, but isn't Zero a little bit...uh..."

One rolled his eyes. "He decided he was too good for numbers and too good to stay with the rest of us, and sits by himself in his own room 'cause he likes guests more than us. Everyone else can call him Judgment Boy if they want, because he's the only relevant one, but we're all Judgment Boys, so with us he gets to be Zero."

Ty turned to Judgment Boy, the zeroth one. "So, uh, when you said there were other ones, you weren't kidding, huh? Also, we have One and Four here, so there's got to be at least two more, so...am I gonna meet them?" Expression shifting to one of panic, he added in a harsh whisper, "Get me out of here, this is weird and I am super uncomfortable." Judgment Boy shrugged helplessly.

"Other ones," One scoffed. "Nice to know our significance to you."

"OKAY," Judgment Boy snapped, "I get it, you're bitter! Have you ever noticed you're the only one who's angry at me?"

"The fact that the other ones adore you is the reason I'm angry," One said, and covered Four's ears. "Do you know how much they talk about you?"

"ZERO!" screeched a voice from up the hall, and Ty winced. There was the sound of pounding, fast footsteps, and before Ty could even look over to see who it was this time, a blur ran past him and half-tackled Judgment Boy. Yet another one, with a neckerchief and a "2" on their crop top. They were chubby, with light brown skin and dense, also blond curls falling down to their chin. Ty surmised that whatever these people's natural hair color was when they were alive changed to blond when they transformed into a moral evaluation douche.

"Am I gonna have to remember all these guys?" asked Ty.

One scowled at him. "We're fucking people, you know. You don't have to talk to us, and if you don't want to talk to us, we don't want you to talk to us, either, but at least don't act like we're irrelevant background characters to whatever's going on with you and Zero here."

"I want to talk to him," Two protested, letting go of Judgment Boy. "Who's this?" they asked, and then covered their mouth. "Oh my gosh, are you dating him?" They bounced in place excitedly.

"No, we aren't dating," Judgment Boy said.

"Wow, we aren't?" Ty asked. "I can't believe you, we're totally dating."

Judgment Boy grabbed Ty by the arm and took him aside into a mostly empty broom closet, not unlike the one from when Ty cut his forehead. "I thought you wanted to get out of here, you're making it worse!" Judgment Boy whispered in a hiss.

"I did, but this one's cute. Now there's two cute ones. Plus you. Outweighs one uncute one. Do you really not like these guys?"

Judgment Boy sighed. "No, I do like them. This is just. Embarrassing. Also, weren't you trying to find a way out?"

"Yeah, well, we weren't finding any leads. Besides, the wedding was yesterday, now I get to meet your family."

"We are not dating, and we are especially not married!"

"There's at least one more, I'm not going until I meet cutie number four. Or, uh, Three."

"Hey," said a different voice, and Judgment Boy and Ty both shrieked.

A third person flicked on the light switch. Leaning against the wall was Three, skin with all the color vibrancy of flour, in a striped hoodie and a beanie - pinned - into his dyed black hair. The dye job was made obvious by the little bit of (who would have guessed?) blond showing in his roots. He held up a hand dressed in a black fingerless glove and made a peace sign. "If it isn't Zero."

"Do you...just...hang out in closets?" asked Ty.

"Well, yes, but I actually snuck in here when I was looking for Four and saw you both coming down the hall bickering about dead ends. I was gonna jump out and scare you, but I didn't want to break up the cute couple. Nice catch, Zero, I might just steal him."

"We aren't dating!" Judgment Boy insisted.

"Then what's that?" Three pulled a compact mirror out of his hoodie pocket, showing Judgment Boy the tiny red mark on his neck.

Judgment Boy turned to Ty in horror. "WHEN?"

Ty shrugged. "I actually don't remember that. Maybe it was when I was asleep."

"You - in your sleep, you expect me to believe-!"

"Hey, uh, whenever you're done, how about I take you outside, calm One the fuck down, diffuse the situation, and maybe I can help you out with your little jailbreak scheme?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was originally supposed to be 7 chapters long rip  
> also yes two is nb
> 
> my son is my son


	8. Do You Even Remember Her Name?

There was a long pause while Judgment Boy, Ty, and Three were all standing there in a dimly lit closet waiting for someone to do something, until Three decided he, as the one who made the promise to help them with the apparent argument the other two had landed themselves in, would be the one to open the door.  Ty, who was leaning on it, stumbled and nearly toppled to the ground, then found himself looking straight up at One.

“Have you all finished up with your rendezvous in the closet?  What were you talking about in there, anyway?”

“Watch this,” Three whispered, winking at Ty.  “Oh, One, must you always be so cynical?  These two were having a simple couple’s dispute about Ty here wearing the incorrect color of stripes, a dispute which would clearly have developed into something more PG-13 were this not the closet that I always embroider my own band shirts in and I were not already occupying it.  So, I informed them-”

“Enough,” One groaned, “I do  _ not _ have the patience to listen to you right now, you fucking gremlin.  We’re gonna have words sometime, Zero, just not today.”

“Now that that’s over with,” Three said, as if the rest of the resident mock trial team weren’t still standing there, “You’ve got questions, huh, human kid?  Come on, let’s find someplace a little...cozier.”

Someplace a little cozier turned out to be Three’s corner of a room labelled “The Judgment Factory,” furnished with several milk crates full of neatly labelled cassette tapes and a few lovely crayon portraits signed by Four.

Ty picked up a cassette off the little stool serving as a bed stand and turned it in his hands, examining it absentmindedly.  “Nice...collection,” he said. “Who the hell are Aeroblus?  And…” he picked up another cassette.  “...Automatic Fine Tuning.”

“Don’t.  Try to make small talk with me about my albums,” Three growled.  “I can tell just by looking at you that you aren’t  _ actually _ interested in hearing about what makes Aeroblus such an underrated LP.”

“O...kay.”  Ty exchanged looks with Judgment Boy, who frowned sympathetically.  “Um...why do you guys all live in the same room?  There’s a whole bunch of empty rooms in this hotel, I’m sure you could work something out.”

“Eh, the old rat doesn’t like us much and we like staying together.  Except this one, anyway.”  Three gave Judgment Boy a pointed look.

“So, why is everyone else different and you’re all the same?  Like, there’s at least six of you but only one candle cook guy and only one lizard nurse lady.”

“That’s a pretty complicated question with a lot of possible answers, but the easiest one is that we were all originally people who came here to escape reality, and this particular group of people all had similar problems and ended up as similar demons when we assimilated.”

“Escape reality?  He told me I was dead, though,” Ty said quizzically.

“Well, that’s one way to escape reality.  You can still get out of here, though, being dead’s not an issue.  Time here flows a little differently than in the real world.  A few minutes here can be a few years there, and vice versa, and everywhere in between.”

Ty was about to proceed to ask how to get back to reality, but another question occurred to him.  “How come you know all this and JB doesn’t?”

“Hmm, I don’t have some natural affinity for the dimension or something, if that’s what you’re suggesting, but I probably know more about it than him from spending time around my mentors and  _ not  _ throwing myself at every human who walks in the door.”

Judgment Boy’s head snapped up.  He had been quietly sitting on the bed, up against the wall, hugging his knees, but he was seething all of a sudden.  “ _ Excuse _ me?”

Ty looked away.  He had already been pretty uncomfortable after this guy snapped at him for making polite conversation about the cassette collection, god forbid this line of questioning went somewhere disastrous.

“Who I spend my time with is none of your business, Three,” Judgment Boy said with a certain hateful conviction in his voice Ty had never heard, and didn’t particularly want to hear again.

“If you didn’t want it to be anyone else’s business, maybe you should try to be a little more  _ discreet _ about it.  And maybe a little more choosy, hm?  Weren’t you getting all pally with literally the  _ last _ guest to be here before freckles showed up?  Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s all around a better choice than that broad, but she’s been gone, what, a week?  Are you just playing with these people, or what?  Do you even remember what her name was, dude?”

Ty eyed the door.

Judgment Boy’s hands balled up into little fists, scrunching the bed sheets.  “She’s been gone for twenty days and eighteen hours.  Her name was Leyla.  I remember  _ everyone’s _ names.  I can’t  _ believe _ you’re  _ actually _ sitting here and accusing me of not caring, I--”

“Look, I’m just saying, I don’t have a problem with you the way One does, but maybe you’re spending time with all these humans and you’re not really as sincere as you think you are about it?  You’re a demon who lives in a hotel full of demons, and you really believe that you’re only interested in talking to humans?”

“There’s a human  _ right here _ , and he is  _ visibly uncomfortable _ , so if you maybe want to pick a better time to argue with me about this, that would be great.”

“Who said we were arguing?” Three screwed his face up.  “I’m just telling you what I think, and you’re getting all huffy about it.”

“What did you think was going to happen, Three?  You know how I feel about this.”

“Know how you feel about what?  I don’t know how you feel about  _ anything _ , dude, you never fuckin’ talk to me.”

Judgment Boy’s face was red.  He took in a sharp breath, like he was about to say something, and then unexpectedly got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door with a thundering crash.  Ty looked at the now calm doorway with his eyes wide, in utter disbelief of the uncharacteristic anger he’d just witnessed.

“I’m used to him getting worked up about nothing and not really being mad,” Ty murmured to himself, “but that was…”

“Boys,” Three scoffed.  “What was that you were saying, Harpo?”

From the way the argument escalated that high that quickly, and the way Three said ‘boys’ so dismissively, as if that was a reasonable or even logical thing to say in this scenario, Ty felt like he was finally getting an understanding of what kind of place this hotel was.

“Nothing,” Ty answered.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, okay.”

There was a long, exceedingly awkward silence, but this awkwardness was lost on Three, who, given the circumstances, seemed pretty nonplussed by it all.

Quietly, Ty asked, “How many humans has he known?”

“How many?  Eh, hell if I know, but it’s gotta be well over a thousand.”

“And you don’t think that he really cared about all those people?”

“How could he?  That’s not even necessarily a negative reflection of him in any significant way, it’s just a matter of practicality. It’s too many people, and they don’t even last long here.”

Ty sunk.  He buried his face in his knees, though his mind traveled to Judgment Boy standing out in the hallway.  He didn’t really want to talk to Three anymore.

“Hey, I’ll talk to you some more about getting out of here soon.”

“Whatevs, dude.”

Ty cracked open the door and slipped through it so as not to be so loud, and saw Judgment Boy standing with his head against the wall like a concussed hedgehog.  He approached him carefully.

“Remember that time you said you didn’t have feelings?”

“Yeah.”

“You never actually thought that.”

“No.”

“It’s okay, you weren’t fooling anyone, anyway.  Look, I don’t know what happened to you that made you decide you needed to pretend not to be an emotional wreck every waking moment of your-”

“-I don’t know either; I don’t remember it.”

“--What I’m  _ trying to say _ , if you’d let me speak, is that I appreciate you actually trying your best to help me out even though you don’t have to and you benefit in no way from it.  Shit- that sounds different from what I meant.  Look, what I really mean is, I think you’re pretty great, okay?  I didn’t appreciate or understand in the beginning that you’re a lot more helpful than I thought.”

“I’m more...helpful.”

“Fuck, I’m just trying not to be too sappy but I keep sounding too detached and it’s seriously fucking me up, so if I could just-”

Ty yanked Judgment Boy over by the collar of his shirt and kissed him, squeezing him tightly in a hug.  “Gotcha.  I know it doesn’t actually fix anything, but you seemed like you needed it, I guess.  We’ll find a way to get out together, okay?  Or, we’ll ask Three, but maybe we should leave that alone for a little while.  Sound like a plan?”


End file.
